Professional
by Love-slave
Summary: Draco is a therapists and Harry Potter-being Harry Potter-needs a little help... of course Draco Malfoy-being Draco Malfoy-needs some too. Harry/Draco
1. Chapter 1

AN: I've had this story brewing in there for a little while now. Draco became a therapist after the war and Harry--being Harry--needs some help and Draco--being Draco--needs some too. :P I hope you likey!!!!!!!!

Professional

chapter one

Draco had been called many things over the years but indolent was never one of them. He had worked hard from the day the war ended all the way to the present moment in order to get his life on track and despite whoever's poor sense of humor was interfering in his relative peace now, he would continue working.

He was a responsible adult. He could put aside childish resentment and treat Harry Potter like any other patient to slink into his office. In fact seeing him didn't bother Draco the way he thought it would. It was different. The jealousy, resentment, attraction and all the other mixed feelings were still there, but as a distant echo, more nostalgic than anything else. It took him back much as a familiar perfume would, to a time when Harry Potter was the extent of his worries. Harry Potter, his transfiguration marks, Quidditch.... Surprisingly, seeing Harry Potter before him was making him smile.

He cleared his throat gently to wipe the expression off of his face. While Potter was sulkily staring at the floor was probably not the most appropriate time to be dreamily reminiscing. Harry Potter looked much the same as he had years ago, his hair still an untidy mess of jet black, clothes still unflatteringly dull colours although now they fit. Little things were different though. His body looked a bit more sturdy, more muscular under the greyish sweater, his glasses were frame-less and less distracting than the round ones he'd become known for and his dark lashes against his cheek made his skin seem more delicate and pale. He hadn't looked up since he'd entered the room twenty minutes ago and he definitely hadn't bothered answering or even acknowledging the basic questions, but again; Draco could handle it. He was a professional.

"So where shall we start?" he asked softly. He knew he had a nice voice and used it as his main weapon. Coaxing patients into talking had become a personal triumph for him–and for a therapist that was a handy talent.

Potter didn't grace him with a glance.

"How about we discuss why you're here today," he suggested.

Potter simply sighed softly and sank slightly into his seat which Draco assumed was a sign that he'd given in to having an hour of his life thrown away.

"You don't want to be here, I see." Potter snorted. "Well, many people don't at first," Draco said. "Unfortunately for you these sessions are court ordered and I have plenty of time."

Finally the brunette shot him a glare. Clearly Draco's presence didn't have quite the same effect on Potter as his did on him. He swallowed and looked down at his notebook. He'd half forgotten what it was like to be on the receiving end of those fiery eyes. For some reason that striking green was a perfect conveyance of anger. He doodled a quick squiggle, trying to compose himself and clear his head.

"The sooner we begin to talk, the sooner–."

"Stop," Potter whispered.

Draco hadn't been ready for the rough tone. He waited in silence while the man across from him tugged the loose strings on his sleeve. Finally he looked up at Draco, his eyes just as fiery but not as angry. He was frustrated, confused.

"How can you act like this," he asked, "like I don't even know you–like we're strangers?" He took one staggering breath and was on his feet. "After everything–," he bit his lip and Draco found himself staring at the act before Potter spun around and was out the door.

Draco cursed himself quietly enough for the secretary not to hear and was on his feet. In any other circumstances–with any other patients–he would follow.

He caught the heavy door before it fully swung shut.

"Which way?" he asked.

Helen, simply pointed and he bolted for the emergency stair well. He just wanted to catch him before he made it off the grounds and disapparated away but when he swung the heavy metal door open only the autumn wind greeted him. He looked around quickly but Harry Potter was no where to be seen.

He sighed and knocked his head lightly against the door frame before turning to find Potter leaning against the wall staring at him oddly.

Draco felt his cheeks begin to tingle.

"I thought you left," he muttered.

Potter looked away with a shrug.

"I didn't think you would follow me."

"Ah."

This was a good sign. As unthreateningly as he could, he eased himself closer to him.

"You were right of course," he said. At that, Potter looked at him again. "It was stupid of me to treat you like you were anyone else. I just thought that would be the most professional thing to do."

He snorted.

"You–and me–." He hadn't thought this through. "We–." He sighed. "Why don't you come back upstairs and we can discuss it?"

"Not a chance," Potter said at once. He spared Draco half a glance more before stepping past him and out the door.

Draco watched it drift shut and with a groan sank onto a step. Well that had been a disaster. He hadn't heard himself stutter like that since he'd been a child.

It took a long moment to realize that his heart was skipping and he had another moment of Deja Vu. That had always happened with Potter, hadn't it? The quickened breath and pounding heart. After every discussion, altercation, sometimes even just when their eyes met.

Draco pushed himself to his feet and began to climb back up the stairs, dusting off his suit as he went.

If he was going to be Potter's therapist there were certain things that he had to do differently.

Potter was right. They weren't strangers. He couldn't pretend that the brunette's presence in his life was meaningless, because when he was honest with himself he knew that wasn't true. Harry Potter was always an important factor in Draco's life.

He made it back behind his desk before wanting to bang his head against something.

He would have to change a few things in order for Potter to open up to him. First and foremost calling him Harry would probably help, and also–he would have to open up to him.

The very thought sent a little chill up Draco's spine. At least now he knew what Harry was feeling.

*

Harry could barely contain the array of emotions washing through him as he waited.

Draco Malfoy. God damn Draco Malfoy.

No matter how much he repeated it in his head it still seemed no less ridiculous.

The door opened and Hermione entered the living room, Ron close behind her.

She nearly dropped the bag of groceries she was carrying.

"Harry–."

"Get me a new doctor," he said.

"That bad, eh?" Ron asked dropping the bag he carried onto the coffee table.

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer," Harry said. "It was _Draco Malfoy_ trying to _talk _to me. About _feelings_."

Ron, being a good friend tried valiantly to hold back his laughter.

"Oh Harry, I'm sure it wasn't that bad," Hermione said, walking past him into the kitchen.

Harry jumped to his feet following her.

"Not that bad?!" he demanded. "Maybe you've forgotten the six years of school we spent with the guy, the name calling, the rumours... Dumbledor."

She dropped the bag onto the counter and looked at him.

"Malfoy didn't kill Dumbledor," she said. "Snape did, and I was under the impression that you've forgiven him already."

Harry sighed.

"I know but–I don't want to do this at all and having a Malfoy as a therapist really isn't helping matters."

She frowned.

"I know that, but I'm not going to switch the recommendation."

Harry groaned.

"Why not?"

"Because," she began, "I was specifically requested to make you an appointment with the best doctor that wizarding Britain can offer for _the _Harry Potter. It's your fault any way–." Harry sighed as she began her tirade. "If you had just done what any other wizard would do and defended yourself–."

"Hey Harry," Ron said from the door. "Wanna go for a drink?"

"Yes please," he said at once.

He Gave Hermione a peck on the cheek and was out the door with Ron close behind him.

"She's gonna have my balls for that," Ron muttered.

Harry grinned.

"It's much appreciated," he said, "believe me."

The red head clapped him on the shoulder.

"I would do it again," he said dramatically.

They apparated together to the Blue Moon, a somewhat dodgy pub on the edge of town where the drinks were always half priced and took their usual seats at a booth by the wall.

Ron bought the first round and spent a minute blowing at the foam on top of his drink before he looked at Harry.

"So is Malfoy still a slimy git?"

"He–." Actually, he looked perfectly and infuriatingly pulled together from what Harry could tell. Malfoy had always worn the nice clothes and sat up straight but before it was clear that his demeanor was a paltry cover for what lay beneath. "He's better at hiding it now," he said.

"Huh." Ron took a sip of his drink. "He's had plenty of time to practice."

Harry grimaced. That was true enough.

"What's Ginny been up to?" Ron asked. "Haven't seen her in a while."

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. Truth be told they hadn't been seeing much of one another lately.

"Busy with training," he said. "She takes her Quidditch very seriously."

That was true enough.

"Hm. What about you?" Ron asked suddenly with a grin. "When are you going in for tryouts?"

"Er... I don't know yet."

Somehow drinks with Ron wasn't as relaxing as he was hoping it would be. He bit his lip.

A hand squeezed his shoulder gently and he looked at Ron, surprised.

"Have you heard about that splinching case in Amsterdam?" his friend asked.

Harry felt a surge of gratitude toward him and smiled, a real, genuine smile. Only Ron could do that.

"No I haven't," he said. "Tell me all about it."

*

Harry was already seated by the time that Draco entered the room. It was better than waiting as far as he was concerned.

"Hello Harry, how are you doing?" he asked as he glided to his seat. He had been practising that and the name on his tongue felt surprisingly natural now.

He sat down and looked at Harry, caught off by the annoyed expression that was being aimed at him.

"Is it alright if I call you Harry?" he asked.

"Not at all," Harry said politely.

Well he hadn't expected this to be easy.

"Alright–."

"Listen," Harry began. "I'm being forced to be here, but no one's forcing me to talk." He grit his teeth a little trying to keep his emotions in check. "I would appreciate it if we spent the hour in amicable silence."

Looks like Draco wasn't the only one practising.

He took a moment to process and then nodded. This could still work out nicely–well, as nicely as possible.

"Alright," he said. Harry's eyes widened. "You don't have to talk unless you want to, but I'm going to."

The brunette's shoulders drooped a little.

"I was thinking about every thing that happened last week." Harry was biting his lips. "And I think the main issue here is trust. You don't trust me–."

"Big surprise."

"And I–well, I haven't given you much reason to, have I?"

Harry's brilliant eyes met his, surprised by the admission.

Draco's cheeks began to heat uncomfortably but he pressed on.

"I'd like to remedy that problem," he said. "I'm going to tell you a few things about myself, even if you don't want to know, I still think you should listen. You can interrupt and ask me anything you want." His heart was practically cracking his ribs just from the nerves.

What if it made no difference to Harry? What if he shard himself and then the boy who lived just got up and walked away and told his friends and laughed about it? He ran a hand through his hair, pushing back the anxieties he'd felt all week leading up to this.

"I–I was born in Wiltshire on June fifth, I'm a Gemini if that matters at all to you." He shrugged awkwardly when Harry made no response. "I had a fairly sheltered childhood. I didn't have many friends, only those who my parents didn't mind associating with. Mostly it was just me and my mom and dad–and I loved them a lot."

Harry looked away and Draco found himself staring at the strong silhouette an array of memories flooded him. Some where useless to talk about considering that Harry had been there. Where was he going with this again?

"I sort of blindly followed what they told me. I didn't think they could be wrong and even if they were, I wanted to stand by them." He realized that he was tapping his foot nervously. He took a deep breath and stopped it. "After everything...." He looked at Harry and found the green eyes glued to him, enthralled more than anything else. He looked away.

He couldn't do this after all.

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry whispered.

"Because I want you to trust me."

Draco looked away, trying to compose himself. It was hard while Harry was in the room. It was always hard.

"I became a therapist because after the war–everyone was so different–there was no one there for us. No one really cared and–when I tried to help," he shrugged, "listening was all I could do."

He faced Harry square on, his chin lifting a little of it's own accord. Being honest was always a hard thing to do, but this part of his life at least he was proud of.

"Despite what anyone thinks, I believe that it makes a difference. I've worked really hard to make a name for myself."

Harry's eyes bore into his own and for a moment Draco was sure that he could see all the way into him before Harry turned away.

A long silence ensued and then finally Harry's tense demeanor faded a little.

"Where did you go to school?" he asked casually.

"A wizarding college in France," Draco replied casually. "The program taught basic muggle psychology paired with some little magical techniques to help. It was a good program."

"Why France?" he asked.

"I like France... and I wanted to get away."

Harry didn't look at him but he nodded.

"I can understand that," he said.

Draco's breath hitched a little. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard such a regular tone, directed from those pink lips to his person.

"It wasn't so easy to be a Malfoy after the war," he admitted.

Harry smiled a little.

"Or a Potter."

That was an understatement.

"I think I'm going to go now," Harry said suddenly.

"What?" Draco looked at the clock. "Your hour isn't up yet."

"I don't care." He stood up.

"Potter," he said carefully. Harry paused and looked at him. "I could read as many papers as I want to know what happened, but I don't want to." He hadn't left yet. Good sign. "What happened to bring you here?"

"Nothing happened. I just got attacked and didn't fight back."

Oh was that all?

"Did you have your wand?" Draco asked.

Harry gave him an almost incredulous look.

"I always have my wand," he said.

"Was he too fast?" Draco asked ignoring the tone. Not likely, but still he had to ask.

"No–." Harry frowned deeply a delicate crease deepening between his brows.

Clearly he had reached his limit.

"Okay," Draco said.

As Harry turned to leave Draco found himself on his feet.

"Wait," he said. Harry turned to look at him wearily. "You really don't want me to call you Harry?"

He bit his lip slowly and then shrugged.

"Call me whatever you want to call me," he finally said.

Draco stifled the urge to jump up and whoop loudly as the door swung shut behind the boy.

Considering their combined history it was a miracle that Harry had shown up for another session, let alone the fact that no wands had been removed and no hexes cast.

Despite the bizarre mix of emotions coursing through his blood Draco had a good feeling about this.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: thanks for the reviews everyone!^^ DragonAmante pointed out the horoscope error last chapter, thanks for that, it's all fixed now. I totally thought that his b-day was July. Yeah, that was a stupid mistake on my part considering that I am a Gemini and my mother's b-day is June 6th and she's also a Gemini. lol. And yes, this is slash for those who were wondering. XD

Any way on to the next chapter!

chapter two

Harry realized he was biting his lip only when it began to hurt. He touched it, finding blood on his finger tip and groaned. Malfoy would notice that. He'd arrived ten minutes early and sat in anxious silence, waiting for the blond to appear.

He stood up and began to pace. It was getting sort of redundant to wonder what turn of fate had brought him here, and apologizing for sins of a previous lifetime didn't seem to be getting him anywhere either. He had spent all week thinking over the sessions. Thinking over Draco Malfoy.

He hadn't been entirely honest when he'd told Ron about Draco hiding his true nature. If anything, the blond was exposing himself to the world for the first time and all those years before–. No. It was impossible to believe that for all those years his classmate had been hiding behind a mask of disdain and superiority. That had been real.

The door opened and the object of his thoughts looked at him, surprised for a moment to find him pacing the room before smiling gently.

Harry's stomach fluttered uncomfortably.

"Restless?" Malfoy asked simply.

Harry shrugged and took his seat while the blond did the same.

He could feel his defenses coming up already; his shoulders tensing, his jaw clenching. It was an unconscious reaction to Draco Malfoy's presence. He tried to ease it in light of the situation, especially since Malfoy would notice and the clenched jaw always gave him a headache.

"How was your week, Harry?" he asked as he sorted through the papers on his desk, stacking a pile and sorting another.

"Fine," Harry said grimacing. It was disturbing hearing his name in anything other than a sneer from Malfoy's voice. After this many years of disdain, the suddenly natural tone sounded much more intimate than it did when anyone else said it.

"What did you do this week?" he asked.

The casual question made Harry's stomach churn. He didn't want to share anything with this man, but he would have to suck it up because he'd made a deal with himself. After much grueling and hair pulling he'd decided to go through with this.

"Just spent time with some friends and family," he said politely. Malfoy looked at him at that, frowning.

"Family?" he asked.

Harry's cheeks heated.

"Ginny's family," he said.

"Ah, yes." He leaned his chin on his hand, thinking. "So you're still quite close to the Weasley family?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And things are still going well with Ginny Weasley, then?"

Harry simply nodded. He needed to take control of this conversation. The Weasley's, and especially Ginny, had nothing to do with why he was here.

"So you want to know about the attack, right?" he asked abruptly.

Malfoy dropped his pen, startled. He picked it up again before nodding.

"Yes, I do," he said.

"So–," just to clarify, "I tell you what happened, and then that's it, right? I don't need to come any more."

Understanding donned on Malfoy's face.

"Regrettably, that's not all." He looked honestly sympathetic, but Harry was certain that underneath he was at least a little amused. "I don't just want to know about the attack, I want to know about _you_."

Harry couldn't help the familiar scowl from landing on his face.

"Why? So you can decide if I need to be committed or not?"

"No, in this case it's a matter of whether you're a danger to yourself. You must know that already."

He had been told, but putting the decision into the hands of a former enemy made his hackles rise anyway.

"I'm not about to _hurt _myself, it's ridiculous."

"But not defending yourself is much the same thing, wouldn't you say?" His attempted control over the conversation had all but disappeared. "If you have a good enough reason for your actions then you have nothing to worry about."

Harry's blood seemed to be shooting double speed through his body. He needed to calm down. It was hard to talk when his whole body was buzzing like this, half anxiety, half anger.

"Do you have a reason?" Malfoy asked gently.

"Of course I do!" Harry snapped. So much for keeping calm.

Malfoy leaned back in his seat addressing Harry. He bit his lip again to calm himself, the taste of blood reminding him why he was here. He was supposed to be convincing Malfoy that there was nothing wrong with him. That he was sane and calm. The last two meetings had left him shaken and frustrated, much as he was now, but he hadn't even made it through. If he behaved properly then he might need only one or two more sessions.

"How about we start at the beginning of the day?" Malfoy asked.

*

Draco waited silently for Harry to compose himself. The brunette had many reasons to be anxious and upset, taking the time to compose himself was a good thing, although if he chewed on his bruised lips for another second today Draco would personally purchase him a punching bag to give the poor lips a rest.

With a sigh Harry looked at him, much the way he had been this whole time; accusingly–as though Draco were responsible for this mess.

"That day–I woke up at around noon so there isn't much to catch up on there."

Draco smiled despite himself.

"That sounds nice," he said.

Harry shrugged.

"I guess."

He was shuffling his thumbs, distracted. Looked like he needed a little prompting.

"So you went to Diagonally?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Draco waited but Harry was clearly shutting himself up.

"Did you have plans to go somewhere?" he asked.

Harry shook his head absently.

"No. Ginny wanted to pick up a few things and dragged me along. I was gonna drop in on George."

"And then?" Draco asked.

Harry shrugged. This was like trying to squeeze blood from a rock, but he hadn't even expected this much today.

He flipped to the report he'd been given, skimming it quickly.

"It says here that a Mr. Gregory Bolton attacked you outside of Bourgin and Burkes."

Harry nodded again.

"Yeah, he came at me while I was walking by."

"Did he have his wand out?" Draco asked.

Harry sighed.

"Yes, and I saw him coming if that's your next question," he said brusquely. He was getting defensive so Draco didn't push that matter.

"What did he do?" he asked instead.

"Just a minor stinging hex, Locomotor Mortis, and...." He trailed off sucking his swollen bottom lip into his mouth but thankfully not biting it. Draco had read the papers, the daily prophet had gone mad along with any other war survivor or Quidditch fanatic. Harry must know how bad this was. What it said about him. "He hit me with a form of the Entrail-Expelling Curse," he said.

Harry said it casually but his demeanor said otherwise. Draco looked at the news paper clippings for the hundredth time. There was Harry, smiling up at him from a younger age, looking awkward in front of the Camera's with the tag line; _the boy who lived, when he still loved life._ He turned to the other page and grimaced. He had seen the photo countless timed before but the sight of Harry on the stone ground of Diagon Alley, writhing in pain, his stomach split open and innards half hanging from the wound still made his lunch rise in his stomach. He could only imagine what that felt like, lying there with all those people surrounding him.

"After that someone petrified him, disarmed him, and I was taken to the hospital."

A silence ensued before Draco's thoughts were organized enough to ask, "when he hit you with the first two did you not think to protect yourself?"

"I thought about it," Harry said slowly. He stopped and looked away, his entire face turning an interesting shade of red.

"What did you think exactly?"

Harry laughed, an empty laugh.

"I thought _maybe I should pull my wand out_."

"But you didn't."

"I didn't," he agreed.

He was biting his lip again.

"Why?" Draco prompted.

"I didn't think it was necessary, I guess."

"Not necessary?" he asked. "This man cut you open, he wanted to seriously harm you. Surely you could see the intent on his face?"

"Maybe," Harry said. His tense demeanor had faded into a defeated slump, which was hardly better.

"You knew he was going to hurt you and you chose not to defend yourself?" Draco asked gently.

"Yes," Harry finally said.

He was suicidal after all.

A heavy sinking feeling came over Draco. Had he really thought that Harry had a good reason to make his lack of reaction reasonable? He hadn't expected to ever see Harry Potter defeated by anything, he realized. Quietly he tried to take a breath. Harry was only human, he knew that better than a lot of people, so he had to treat him the same way that he would anyone else.

"Have you thought things like that before?" Draco asked. "About not defending yourself?"

Harry nodded listlessly and Draco imagined that at the moment they were both feeling much the same.

"When did these thoughts first start?" he asked.

Harry swallowed.

"A while ago," he said. "Since I realized...."

"Realized what?"

"My magic is–well, it's stronger now." He looked up at Draco, some of the fierceness back in his brilliant eyes. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

"What?"

"If I fought back–even simple spells–I might really hurt someone." He took a deep steadying breath. "That's why I don't want to fight anymore."

Draco stared. That was the most ridiculous, insane–Harry-ish thing he'd ever heard.

"You're afraid of hurting people?" he demanded.

"It wouldn't be the first time," Harry said intently, as though trying to project a memory into Draco's mind to save himself from having to say it.

"Yes but this man...." Draco trailed off as his heart tripped over itself. The girls bathroom on the third floor, the taste of his tears, the pain across his chest, the feel of hot blood pouring over him, warming him, it all came back in a moment. He pulled in a ragged breath and looked at Harry who was watching him bravely, his chin slightly raised.

"Is this about _me_?" Draco demanded, incredulous.

"I–no–it's...." Harry trailed off and frowned. "I guess it might be," he said. He looked as surprised as Draco felt. A surge of warmth swept through him and he attempted to stifle it. It wasn't right for him to be flattered by someone else's suffering.

"That time," Draco said. "That time in sixth year–it was different."

Harry shook his head.

"No," he said. Suddenly he was on his feet, pacing even more anxiously than he had been when Draco first entered the office. "It's no different. I didn't know what Sectumsempra did and I used it on you and you were seriously hurt." He stopped and looked at Draco meaningfully. "If I duel with someone, even if I use a simple attack, I don't know how bad it will be."

Draco stared. It took him a moment to realize that made a kind of twisted sense.

"We could have someone help you with that," Draco said. "If you're interested."

Harry flopped back into his seat.

"With the magic?" he asked.

"You could be trained to control it again."

Harry frowned.

"Why, so I can fight again?" He shook his head. "To be honest Malfoy, I think I'm done with all that."

Done with using his magic? Draco knew what it was like to be without a wand. He couldn't imagine doing it by choice.

Harry glanced at the clock on the wall and stood up.

"My hour's done," he said.

Startled, Draco looked over at it.

"Uh, right." He stood up. "I guess I'll see you next week," he said.

"I have to come again?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Until, I've decided what to do...." He trailed off at Harry's returned scowl. "Do you have a problem with that?" he asked.

Harry clenched his teeth.

"Not at all," he said. Draco swore he heard muttered curses before the door fell shut behind him.

He sat back into his seat running his hands though his hair. To think all these years he thought that their relationship was one sided. Draco being aggravated, distraught, upset about things to do with Potter. Potter not caring.

He wondered what it was really like for the other boy when he saw Draco across the great hall, when he insulted him or did other, worse things.

He'd always thought that Potter was impenetrable, that nothing Draco did to him was even felt. Harry had always been a pain in his side, it was embarrassingly gratifying to know that his presence had at least been noticed.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: thanks again for the reviews^^

chapter three

Harry buried his face in to his pillow with a loud groan.

"What is it now?"

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and then remembered that Ginny couldn't see his face while it was shoved into the fabric and did it anyway.

"You sick or something?"

Harry felt the bed sink a little next to him and turned to look at her. She was putting an ear ring in, make up applied and a slinky black dress hanging over her curvy form.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Meeting Maggie down town," Ginny said. "You sure you don't want to come?"

She had told him already and invited him twice now, but Harry really wasn't a club person. He could barely walk straight let alone dance.

"I could teach you how to dance tonight," she said with the hint of a smile. No doubt she was remembering the last time they had attempted that. Harry smiled at the memory.

"I think it's best we don't try that again," he said.

"So you're just going to stay home again?" she asked.

Harry nodded and pulled her down into a kiss. He hated when she got that disappointed look in her eyes. Lately that seemed like a fairly permanent expression.

He waited until she left before getting out of bed. Ginny had just come by for dinner. Her schedule was pretty hectic lately so whenever she had the afternoon free she would drop by or Harry would swing by her place. Today had been particularly awkward. For some reason, he couldn't figure out what to talk about.

He went to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and grabbing a bottle of cola. Ginny sort of had a problem with Harry's bachelor life-style, but she could ask anyone on earth and they would tell her. Harry Potter has never even glanced at another woman.

Wait, that didn't sound right.

Harry Potter would never be interested in another woman while he already had one, he revised.

With a sigh he sank into the living room couch and flicked on the telly. Ever since his last meeting with Malfoy he felt off. Something was different, unsettled within him.

He didn't like the fact that he had shared so much with the blond and all he got in return was the promise that they would be meeting again. As though that was something that Harry wanted.

God he needed a drink. Maybe he should have gone with Ginny after all. The thought alone made him cringe. No. Dancing was definitely off the table for Harry. Rhythm couldn't be learned.

For a few minutes he stared absently at the television, flipping for something to catch his interest and just as he was giving up the fire flared to life. Harry looked over. Only a few people that could be; one of the Weasley's, Hermione, or Malfoy now.

He grimaced until Ron's head stuck into the fire. The red head looked around until he spotted Harry sprawled on the couch.

"Haven't heard from you since the last Malfoy meeting," he said hoisting up a twenty-four case of beer. "Interested?" he asked.

Two hours later cans littered the coffee table and floor. Harry sat against the couch and Ron lay across it, taking turns to boo the contestants on the talent show they were watching.

"Get off the stage!" Ron shouted and then noticed Harry massaging his ear. "Sorry," he slurred and then grabbed another drink.

Being a gentleman Harry helped him open it, spilling a quarter of the contents and then opening one for himself.

"You should go on this show," Ron said.

Harry laughed.

"For what, drinking?"

"I don't know, you're Harry-bloody-Potter, do whatever you want!"

Harry tried to laugh. He knew Ron was Joking, but–.

"Even if you're rubbish you'll probably still win," he said with a laugh.

Harry frowned and looked at Ron.

"What are you saying?" he asked. "That I get everything because of who I am?"

Ron's eyes widened.

"No–."

"Ron, you should know better than anyone that I didn't ask for all of this." It was an old but effective speech as far as Harry was concerned and definitely did not call for the laugh that his friend was muffling.

"You think this is funny?" he demanded, outraged.

"No, it's nothing," Ron said sliding down to sit next to him on the floor. He dropped an arm over Harry's shoulder. "I haven't heard you say that since you were fourteen." He snickered again and Harry found himself scowling harder.

"It's not my fault," he said hotly. "Ever since this bloody thing with Malfoy I may as well be fourteen again. I don't know how to handle anything anymore."

Ron sighed heavily.

"I hate that guy," he said for all intents and purposes as though he was the one suffering through the meetings. "I mean, what kind of a man wants to talk to other men about their _feelings_ of all things! I'd rather have my teeth pulled."

Harry nodded fervently.

"Yeah," he said. "This is the way that _real_ men do it." He held up his beer and then tinked it against Ron's.

"You know what the worst part is?" he asked. "It actually–somehow–worked and I told him a bunch of stuff. I don't know how he did it!" He vaguely recalled planning to speak before their last meeting but he couldn't figure out how that made sense in the Malfoy bashing. "He got me to tell him things that I haven't told _you_."

Ron's eyes widened dramatically.

"And I have to go back." It suddenly felt cold in his little overheated living room. Malfoy didn't just make Harry spill his guts, he'd made him realize things that he didn't even know. Things he didn't _want _to know. He didn't care about the contributing factors to do with his magic, especially when they made the old memory seem fresh and new. Who knew what else the blond would make him realize?

"It was that bad?" Ron asked quietly.

Harry shivered a little and his friend tugged him into a surprisingly comfortable hug. Bad idea. Harry didn't think he could pull himself upright, especially when Ron's sweater was so soft. He put his arms around the redhead who protectively patted his shoulder.

"I'm gonna speak to 'Mione," he said grimly.

Harry shook his head.

"Don't bother," he said sinking into Ron's chest.

"No, you're not going back there," he said vehemently. "I'll speak to her tomorrow."

With a swell of gratitude Harry squeezed his waist tightly. Ron was by far the best person in the world, and definitely use to comforting a younger sibling judging by the way he was ruffling Harry's hair.

He realized vaguely that this current position probably went against that image of a _real _man that they had been boasting about, but couldn't be bothered to care. He inhaled the sweet scent of Toffee that was his friend and promptly fell asleep.

*

Draco was frazzled to the tips of his hair and spent a moment smoothing his fingers through it before he turned to his mother and said for what felt like the tenth time.

"I don't have time for this right now."

She wasn't having any of it.

"Come now, Draco, if you have time for the _dashing _gentleman in the plaid suit then you have time for your own mother."

He pointedly ignored her sarcasm.

"Yes well that dashing gentleman arranged a time with me a week in advance and didn't just show up in my _office_ while I was at _work_." Why was it that he sounded like a rebellious child again. _Mum, get out of my room! _The thought just made him glower. And then her next words made it worse.

"You call this work, Draco? How are you supposed to earn enough to support yourself and a family?"

He sighed. They had been down this road too many times.

"I make plenty enough," he said.

"Well, how would I know that?" she asked. "It's not like you've shown me proof."

She had him there. Although Draco didn't feel that he _needed_ to give her proof, avoiding her altogether was clearly making the matter much worse.

"Alright, fine," he said. He walked to the desk and pulled open the top drawer, removing the leather-bound agenda from within.

Not allowing her to see the full pages he searched for a day that would do. There was tomorrow, but he sort of wanted a few days to brace himself for this.

"How about next Thursday at four?" he asked.

She stared at him.

"That's more than a week away," she said.

"Yes, but I'm a busy man. You may not think so, but this is a demanding job and I happen to be very good at it. I have a lot of patients and–."

"Yes, yes," she said turning toward the fire place. Draco was reminded why he hated her infuriating habit of interrupting things that she deemed unimportant. In other words two thirds of what came out of Draco's mouth.

She paused before tossing the floo power into the fireplace and looked back at him with a semi-pained expression.

"Just promise me you wont be busy because you're going on more dates with the plaid fellow."

Draco sighed.

"Mother, he was wearing a smiley-face tie, do give me more credit than that."

She smiled and elegantly stepped into the green flames.

"Malfoy Manor," she said and was gone.

With a groan Draco sank into his seat feeling probably more frazzled than necessary. He had been officially avoiding his mother for just over two months now but he should have known; when a Malfoy wanted to find someone they always did–and then made the poor fool suffer for making them look.

He rubbed his temples, trying to organize his thoughts. Harry would be here soon and he could scarcely keep his thoughts straight.

"Okay," he whispered. "Harry, Harry, Harry," Harry, Harry.... That didn't really help. When he thought of Harry Potter he thought of Quidditch and Hogwarts and an array of other unpleasant memories that made him think of more pleasant places and times.

It was all very confusing to be honest and after their last meeting it was like a fire had been lit inside Draco that made him obsessively replay their moments together over and over in his head. They were nothing that Draco ever really wanted to go back to, usually ending in him as a small furry animal or feeling flames licking his skin.

Even so, his thoughts were drawn there so much that while on a date with an attractive idiot in plaid with messy dark hair, all he could think was that Harry Potter wore the style better.

That in itself was rather infuriating. If Draco didn't brush his hair at least three times a day it looked rather as though he had just suffered from a sleepless night on the street, and now that he had developed the bad habit of running his hands through it, it happened even more often.

In short, he was half obsessed with the man who had a thousand things against him in Draco's books but still made Draco feel that they were attached somehow.

He had accepted his former classmate as a patient because he thought that he was professional enough not to be swayed by their past together. Now he was wondering.

The door pushed open then and Harry entered, barely glancing up.

For a moment Draco thought that he'd been crying but then he looked up and Draco raised his eyebrows.

"Have you been drinking?" he asked.

Harry frowned.

"Not today," he said.

"You're hung over." Great. Draco hadn't even had the time to go through his notes, or find the questions and topics he had written down that he wanted to know about and now Harry entered his office hung over.

With a sigh Draco pulled open his bottom drawer and tossed Harry a bottle of Asprin. He caught it, just barely, and then looked up at Draco.

"Muggle medicine?" he asked.

Draco shrugged.

"That stuff's faster than making a potion." He leaned over handing Harry his own glass of water, surprised when the brunette didn't hesitate to drink from it. He watched Harry sip the drugs down, finding himself tracing the little bob of his adams apple as he swallowed and promptly looked away until Harry set the glass back on the table.

"So what was that about?" Draco asked.

"What?" Harry asked looking genuinely confused.

"The drinking," he said. "What was it about?"

Harry pursed his lips ever so slightly.

"I was with friends," he said. "Sometimes friends like to get together and have a few drinks."

Draco held back a scowl. He really hated drunks.

"They don't do it every night though," he said calmly.

Unlike Draco, Harry didn't bother to hold back his scowl.

"I don't do it every night," he said tersely.

"How many nights then?" Draco persisted. He could tell the difference between a few hours missed sleep and a few days of alcohol, thank you. "This week, that is."

Harry thought for a moment.

"Er, four."

Draco sat back in his chair.

"Four nights since last week?" he asked.

Harry nodded and then flushed.

"Four nights since Saturday," he corrected.

"I see." Draco took a sip of water before continuing. "And how many times since last Wednesday?"

"Five," Harry admitted.

At least it wasn't seven.

Draco took a moment to sort through his thoughts, ignoring the one that wanted to ask what exactly Harry would be like drunk. He couldn't even imagine it. He shook his head wondering why he would be trying to imagine it.

He had seen Harry twice already though and if Harry was an alcoholic now, he sure as hell hadn't been last week.

"Did something happen?" he asked.

Harry snorted.

"I had to come see you didn't I?"

Well at least he knew what one of the occasions had been over.

"On Saturday," Draco clarified. "Did something happen that day?"

Again Harry just looked confused.

"No," he said slowly.

Draco grimaced.

"Harry, as much as I hate to break it to you, people don't often drink a lot unless they have a reason."

"I'm addicted?" he offered.

Draco smiled a little.

"Not likely," he said.

Harry visibly relaxed and it took Draco a good minute to realize that it was because he had smiled.

"Nothing happened," Harry said shrugging. "Ron just came over and he brought drinks."

"Every night since Saturday?" Draco asked sceptically and to his surprise Harry nodded.

Draco frowned.

"Isn't Ron Weasley married?" he asked.

"Yeah, but Hermione came the one night and the other three she was working late." He shrugged. "She doesn't mind, anyway."

How could he not see a problem here?

"What about your girlfriend?" he asked.

Harry glanced away.

"She's busy a lot," he said. "Has a lot of friends and such."

There was a definite problem there too but Draco decided not to press it. One issue at a time would do.

"So, does Ron drink a lot, then?"

Harry bit his lip briefly and then smiled.

"Only when he's with me," he said.

Draco frowned.

"So... you only drink with him and he only drinks with you."

"Yeah...." Harry shifted uncomfortably. "It's not how you think though, it's just that it's fun and–I don't know, maybe we got a little carried away this week but we don't usually."

Despite his hangover, Harry wasn't displaying any of the usual grumpiness that he dealt with from other people. The only real sign was his dark squint and the pallor of his skin. In fact he seemed to be in an almost a good mood.

He was being honest. A wave of relief swept over Draco and then was instantly replaced by the other issue here.

"Do you two only ever drink together?" he asked.

Harry shook his head.

"No, we–we do a lot of things together. _Sober _things," he added. "We can have fun with everything."

For once Harry looked like he genuinely meant it and was happy to share the information.

"He means a lot to you," Draco said. "I can tell."

"Yeah." Harry nodded. "I love him," he said softly.

"What?" The admission caught Draco entirely off guard.

Harry looked up at him.

"He's my best friend," he said.

Draco shook his head.

"That's not what you said," he said. Why were his hands trembling?

Harry frowned in confusion and then his eyes suddenly widened.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said at once. "He's my best friend and I love him. In a friendly way."

Draco found himself staring at the table and tore his gaze back up to Harry's piercing greens. With an earnest expression on his face Draco realized that he was trying with all his might to convince him that it was true. He looked like he meant it, but the way he had said it... and the fact that he cared at all if Draco believed him when before this point it had been hard to get him to share anything at all....

Ha ran a hand through his hair before speaking.

"I suggest that you think this over carefully," he said. "It's possible to be in love with someone and not even realize it."

Harry's entire face flushed like a tomato and suddenly he was on his feet.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" he shouted.

"Yes, and your display of anger is hardly helping your case."

Harry spluttered for a moment and then promptly turned and marched from the room slamming the heavy door behind him with a tremendous effort. Draco stared at the back of the door for a long, shocked moment before it was pushed back open.

Harry stuck his head back in the door, his face still red.

"Did Hermione call you?"

Draco allowed himself to scowl at the tone.

"She did, and just to let you both know it is no longer in her hands which doctor is in charge of you. I was court appointed and I'll be your therapist until _I_ see fit."

Harry cursed loudly and slammed the door again.

Again Draco stared at it half expecting him to come back in to say something else. When the door didn't move he slumped back into his chair burying his face in his hands.

That probably couldn't have gone worse. He dropped his head onto the table and sighed. A lot of people got defensive when you questioned their sexuality, especially when they weren't comfortable with it. Draco himself had hexed a few people who had questioned him about it when he was still young, but the way he had acted now was even more embarrassing.

It was like he was his old self again; the insecure little boy who wanted to be on top. He had made the whole ordeal feel personal rather than being detached the way he was supposed to be. His last words to Harry echoed in his head and he grimaced. So much for building Harry's trust.

Finally he pulled out a scrap of paper and bit the end of his quill while he thought of what to write.

_Harry,_

_I apologize for my behaviour earlier._ _Keep in mind that our floo is connected. If you need anything don't hesitate to contact me._

_Draco Malfoy_

Draco stared at it a moment before deciding that it would have to do. He set the parchment aside to let the ink dry and pulled out a fresh piece. Now he needed one for Weasley.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Here's chapter 4 finally! Enjoy! ^^

Chapter four

"What the hell is this?" Ron demanded holding up a crumpled piece of parchment.

Harry eyed the fluid writing and sighed.

"He sent you one too?" he asked.

Not answering, Ron flipped the note around attempting to straighten it as he did and began reading in a loud voice.

"'Mr. Ronald Weasley, it has come to my attention that you have a strong influence over my current patient Harry Potter. As you know he is currently in a _delicate _state and I'm afraid that you may be _inadvertently _making it _worse_.'

"What is this?" he demanded again.

Hermione reached around her sputtering husband and yanked the letter from his hand.

"When did you get this?" she asked, having just come in. "Hi Harry," she added.

"Hey Hermione."

"Let's see...." She skimmed through the letter quickly and then cleared her throat and continued in a much calmer tone. "'I believe that your frequent drinking habits may be influencing Harry's progress and it would be advisable for the two of you to cut back on the habit significantly for your friend's sake. If you would like to discuss this matter further in person please contact my office and we can make arrangements then. Draco Malfoy,'" she finished.

Well, Harry had to admit that he'd been even more eloquent in his letter to Ron, clearly knowing what the reaction would be.

Trying to cap off his rage Ron sat down at the table in attempted calmness while Hermione neatly folded it back up.

"You staying for dinner?" she asked.

"Sure," Harry said and Ron was on his feet again.

"This is _not _the time to be discussing dinner," he said. "Did you not hear any of that? He's–he's targeting me! Saying that I'm the cause of all of Harry's problems!"

Hermione shrugged.

"Well you two have been drinking a lot."

"What?" Figuring Hermione as a lost cause he turned on Harry. "What did you tell him?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "He guessed on his own considering that I came in hung over."

Ron groaned.

"Why would you go and do that?" he demanded.

Harry grimaced.

"Well why would you force me to top off that whole bottle of Crown Royale?"

Ron gaped.

"I didn't force you!" he spluttered.

"Well it sure felt like it."

"Oh, I see how it is," Ron began.

"Ron-- I didn't--."

"No, no, it's alright. I get it. I am the cause of all of your problems after all."

"Not all of them," Harry said. "Just most."

He attempted not to smile or laugh, but with Hermione bursting into giggles behind his friend it was impossible. They both laughed loudly and sat down where they were.

"I can't breathe," harry gasped.

That set Hermione off harder and after a long and pained moment staring at them both Ron turned and began to boil the water, shaking his head and muttering all the while.

They sat down sometime later, but Ron still seemed upset. Harry watched him across the table as Hermione complained about the stupid complaints she'd received all day at work. Try as he might to keep his attentions focused on her he found himself glued to Ron's soft pout with a smile.

Malfoy's words echoed through his mind so suddenly that he jerked as though he'd been caught. They both looked at him, startled and Harry distracted himself by cleaning up the water he'd managed to spill. It was just chance that he'd been staring, fixated on his best friends full mouth.

Malfoy was crazy.

"You know what?" he said suddenly. He looked up at his friends who were both still watching him. "Why don't we go out, get plastered, take some pictures and I'll deliver them to Malfoy myself at our next session?"

Ron broke into a grin at once.

"That's my boy," he said shaking his head softly.

They both turned to Hermione. Clearly she was trying to find a reason to argue but a smile was tugging on her lips.

"There's nothing wrong with drinking every now and then," she said.

Ron whooped and clapped them both on the back, his mood instantly cheered as he jumped up to grab his coat.

Draco leaned back in his chair observing the man before him with a soft smile. His mother would find it hard to find fault with this one at a first glance.

He was handsome, well dressed, well spoken. If it weren't for the way he ate Draco never would have known that he was a half-blood.

That didn't change the fact that he was incredibly boring however.

"I never knew that there were so many restaurants in Diagonally," he was saying.

"No?" Draco asked. "Are you very interested in different kinds of food?" he asked.

"Oh, no," he said at once. "I just never noticed them. "I can't handle spicy food."

"Not all foreign food is spicy," Draco informed him.

"No?"

Okay, this was starting to become painful. If he didn't set the conversation rolling on a different level soon he was about to say farewell to tall men with flowing locks of hair for the rest of his life… or at least until he forgot how painful stupidity was.

"So what was it that you do again?" he asked.

"I'm a journalist," his date said proudly.

"Ah." Draco took a sip of his wine to hide his surprise. The state of the world was slowly degenerating.

"I write some of the political columns for the Prophet."

Draco tried not to choke.

He cleared his throat.

"Is that so?" he asked. "I guess I must have read some of your work."

"Yes, you must have," he said. "I wrote much of the post-war articles. My father was an Auror, so he always gave me the inside scoop." He grinned. "I think that's how I worked my way into their good graces."

Draco stared. He looked down at his nearly empty plate suddenly feeling dirty for eating a meal with this man.

He looked back up at him.

"The prophet misrepresented a lot of families after the war," he said slowly. "Many people have been negatively affected because of some of the things that were written in the paper. People were forced to move… begin new lives…."

"Yes well they all deserved it," he said. "As far as I'm concerned anyone who was associated with death-eaters shouldn't have the same rights as the rest of us, don't you think?"

Draco set down his glass and pushed his plate away. He looked at his date a little in awe despite himself.

"I don't know what's more shocking," he said. "That you have such an utter disregard for human life, or that you're so incredibly misinformed while writing for the most widely read newspaper in Wizarding Britain."

His date's eyes widened across the table.

"You know who I am don't you?" he asked tilting his head.

Judging by his expression it really did seem like he had no clue.

"I'm Draco _Malfoy. _There is a lot more to me than a first name."

He stood up with a sigh.

"Next time you go on a date, do your research first and save the poor fellow from…" he looked at his watch, "an hour and twelve minutes of wasted time."

He walked past the fool's stunned expression but didn't sigh until he was out in the crisp night air.

He leaned against the cold brick wall for a moment pressing into it for support. It figured that his first few dates back in the wizarding world would be so disastrous. He had almost forgotten what wizards were like to people like him. Outside of the office he mostly avoided them.

He apparated to just outside of his apartment complex and walked up the stairs all the way to the tenth floor heavily, into his apartment and onto the couch without touching any of the lights.

He curled up feeling pretty much like a child again, but the truth was that it stung a little bit. That guy was in no way better than Draco was but here he had the right to act like it.

He sighed and shut his eyes. There was really only one person that he could think of who was allowed to act like Draco was scum and only because Draco really had been when he'd formed that opinion.

He sighed wondering whether Harry had received his note. He hadn't replied, but Draco supposed that didn't mean anything.

Hermione was sprawled across Ron's lap while they laughed. They were by far the loudest three in the pub for a Thursday night, giggling loudly about the looks on their faces in Hermione's camera.

"Okay," she said straightening up. "Harry, you're a tiger, a tiger!" she shouted.

Harry attempted to look fierce, holding his hands up like flexed claws.

He growled as it flashed and the other two broke into giggles and handed him the camera.

"Oh, that's attractive," he laughed.

"Okay, you two, you're—you're on your honey moon in Alaska, and you have no parkas!"

They laughed and jumped together shaking and covering themselves as though they were naked.

Harry giggled and snapped the picture but when it appeared momentarily in the viewfinder it looked different. He pressed play and the picture popped up again. They were in the same position but they were kissing.

He looked up finding their lips still locked together.

Harry stared transfixed even as he tried to look away. Ron's hand's dropped, rubbing gently down his wife's arms and Harry suddenly felt sick.

"Um, guys…"

They broke apart at once with a laugh. Hermione turned red at once and smacked Ron painfully.

"Not in public," she reprimanded.

"But that was all you."

She shrugged and excused herself to the washroom, her cheeks still pink.

"Don't know why she gets so embarrassed when we're already married," he shrugged.

Harry smiled half heartedly.

Why did he feel so awful? His stomach just wouldn't settle down.

"What's up?" Ron asked.

Harry tried to think clearly through the beer fog. He wanted to say something that would make sense with how he felt but all he could think about was his last session.

"Malfoy says I'm in love with you," he said.

Ron nearly dropped his drink.

"What?" he demanded. "Why?"

Harry shrugged.

"I dunno, I was talking about you and—."

"What a git!" Ron spat. "Seriously, you need a new doctor, there's something wrong with his head or something."

"But am I?" Harry asked.

"Are you what?"

"In love with you."

"No!" Ron said at once. He put down his drink to save from spilling more of it. "You're not in love with me! That's ridiculous!"

"Is it?" Harry asked.

"Yes!" Ron massaged his temple theatrically for a moment and then looked up at Harry with as much seriousness as a drunk could muster.

"Listen," he said. "First; you would have to be gay, and you're not."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked.

Ron looked for a moment like he was about to have an aneurism.

"You have a girlfriend," he said, pained.

"Right," Harry said, remembering. "But we haven't had sex in a while."

Ron narrowed his eyes, clearly wondering if he should ask.

"How long is a while?"

Harry thought back.

"About six months," he said.

Ron tried to process that information.

"Oh."

Finally he looked at Harry.

"Even if you were Gay though," he said. "You don't you know, have a thing for me or you'd be all… you know… flirty and stuff."

His ears began to turn red, coming close to matching the shade of his hair.

Harry smiled. He was so cute when he was embarrassed like that. His eyes widened, noticing his train of thought.

"I think I might be Gay," he said with wonder.

Ron's jaw dropped.

"No," he said. "You're crazy about women. You always use to cut out pictures from Seamus' magazines and—."

"Ron, that was you."

"Oh—right."

They stared at each other for a moment. Harry was stunned. Now that he was trying to actively figure out if he was gay or not all the little things about Ron were just bouncing out at him, smacking him in the face. His deep brown eyes, the colour of dark chocolate, his full lips, his strong shoulders and hands.

Ron watched him silently as he slid over to sit next to his friend. He didn't know what he was doing but Ron wasn't stopping him so he leaned forward.

He went so slowly he didn't think that he would make it, but his friend held perfectly still until Harry was against him. Their lips touched softly at first until Harry leaned into him, savouring how soft and plump his lips were, how good he smelled.

He lifted a hand up, letting it brush Ron's prickly jaw before a hand grasped it and pulled it away.

Harry pulled back slowly; dread sinking into his stomach at what he'd just done.

Ron didn't say anything, probably couldn't, but his eyes said it all.

Harry yanked his hand back and slid out of the booth, stumbling into Hermione as he went.

"Harry?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

Not answering he ran past her and out onto the street, apparating away the moment his shoes touched the cement.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter five

AN: wow, this story is shaping up to be a lot longer than I imagined. ^^ I hope everyone is enjoying it thus far. XD

Sorry~updates will continue to be a little slow because of all of the original M/M fiction that I've been writing. If you'd like to read any of it, follow the link on my profile page and it will take you to my website!

A loud crash made Draco jerk so hard that he tumbled from the couch. He raised his head, smacking it off the corner of the coffee table and shut his eyes with a wince.

"Malfoy!"

Startled, he looked up and attempted to pull himself into a reasonable position before Harry threw open the door and stumbled in.

"Malf…" he trailed off as his eyes landed on Draco, on his knees on the ground.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"Know what?" Draco asked pulling himself to his feet.

Harry did not look right. His eyes were red, he was wobbling a little.

"About Ron," he said. He hiccoughed and Draco suddenly understood. He sighed and came forward, taking Harry by the hands and leading him steadily to the couch where he had just been sleeping.

Harry flopped down into it and began to sniffle.

Draco sat down next to him. He definitely had not expected their floo connection to be put to use so soon.

He supposed that if Harry wasn't drunk it wouldn't have been.

"What happened?" he asked gently.

Harry pulled off his glasses instead of answering and rubbed his eyes.

He frowned at Draco.

"Haw did you know?" he asked again.

Draco's breath hitched.

He had never once seen the brunette without his glasses on. The green of his eyes, already stunning seemed magnified. His eyes were larger than Draco had realized they were and they were so easily read that Draco suddenly understood why Harry always wore his glasses rather than fixing his eyes.

He tore his eyes away, fighting to remember what Harry had just said to him.

About Ron. Right.

He remembered what he'd said about Harry's feelings for the red head and grimaced.

"How did I know?" he asked.

Harry nodded, forlornly.

Draco smiled uneasily. His stomach was twisting uncomfortably.

"Just a feeling," he said. "You speak about him like he means so much to you. Like you need him, I guess. Most friends don't do that."

Harry shut his eyes and with a groan, pressed his face into his hands.

Draco watched silently.

He bit his lip.

"You really didn't know?" he asked.

Harry shook his head.

"Not until I was kissing him."

Draco's jaw dropped.

He wiped the expression off of his face when Harry turned his distressed eyes to him.

"You kissed him?" he asked.

Harry nodded.

"Oh god!" he groaned. "He's never gonna talk to me again!"

"Yes he is," Draco said at once. He had seen firsthand how devoted Ronald Weasley was to Harry Potter.

"You just have to explain everything to him."

"Explain _what_?"

Suddenly he gasped and looked up at Draco his eyes wide.

"Am I gay?" he asked.

Draco bit his lip, trying to keep from smiling.

"You've never even thought about it before?" he asked.

Harry shook his head.

"No, why would I?"

Draco couldn't help but smile. It was ridiculously cute to him, the fact that Harry was only now even considering something like this. He was sorely tempted to ruffle the brunette's hair, but he imagined that would not be well received.

Instead, he pushed himself to his feet and walked past Harry to the kitchen.

Harry followed at once, nearly tripping through the door until Draco pushed him into a seat.

He pulled open his cupboards retrieving all the ingredients for his family's intoxication remedy.

It was easy to live in the muggle world once you got use to it, but there were some things that muggles just didn't have.

"What are you making?" Harry asked.

He had put his glasses back on which made it infinitely easier for Draco to look at him.

"Drunk cure," he said.

Harry shook his head fervently.

"I'm not drunk," he said.

Draco snorted.

"No, really. After what I did, I'm completely sober."

"Wait, you got drunk _before_ this happened?"

"Yeah."

He groaned again and dropped his head with a heavy thud onto the table. He didn't move until Draco nudged him, with a large glass of the concoction.

Lifting his head heavily, he took it without a word and began to sip it while Draco took a seat across from him.

Only a few sips in Harry shut his eyes with a sigh.

"I guess this doesn't really constitute the emergency that I thought it did," he said heavily.

"Sure it does."

Harry glanced at him and quickly looked away. Now that the alcohol was being washed from his system he didn't look too pleased to be here.

Taking over before he could run like he normally did, Draco smiled at him. It was surprisingly easy when Harry looked so vulnerable. He actually _wanted _to comfort him.

"Being gay isn't such a bad thing," he said.

Harry just gulped and looked away.

"But just because you have feelings for a man might not mean anything at all. You had feelings for your girlfriend at one point didn't you?"

Harry eyed him, with a frown.

"I guess so," he said slowly.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably.

"I don't know," he said. "She just seemed like a really perfect match and—I was really happy when we got together—and I do love her—or I did I guess."

He sighed and shut his eyes. After a long moment he opened them with a troubled expression.

"I don't think I _can _be gay," he said.

Draco frowned.

"Why not?" he asked.

Harry began that infuriating habit of biting his lips.

"Well, because I'm—well I'm Harry Potter." He whispered the end as though embarrassed by the words.

"It would be in all the papers, and everyone would know and everyone would have something to say."

He looked at Draco.

"I really like my privacy," he said. And the only reason that I have any of it is because I'm relatively normal. I'm ordinary."

If Harry genuinely thought that he was ordinary then he wasn't seeing clearly. Even with the fame aside, Harry Potter would gather attention of all kinds. His looks would guarantee at least a little.

"It's not that hard to keep it quiet," Draco said. "But even then, do you want your life dictated by what you want and don't want people to know about you?"

Biting his lips hard, Harry shook his head.

"I just want to live normally," he whispered.

Draco looked away.

That probably wasn't possible. Not if he wanted to stay in all of Europe at least, he was too well known.

"Normal for you might be different than it is for most people," he said carefully.

Harry simply nodded, his shoulders slumped. Clearly this was something he had already tried to come to terms with.

"Being happy with yourself will make everything else easier."

It was easier when he slid back into therapist mode.

"In terms of your sexuality," Harry grimaced, "I suggest that you think about it a little more. Try to see if you feel any attraction to other men, or just Ron Weasley."

Harry was staring at him.

"How am I supposed to do that?" he asked, flushing.

Draco's own cheeks matched the colour of Harry's as he realized where the brunette's mind had wandered.

"You don't have to experiment or anything."

Harry looked away, his whole face turning red.

He cleared his throat.

"Just you know, start paying attention to the men around you. Look at them—same way you do with girls."

"Right."

"In the mean time, you have to decide what to do about Ginny _and_ Ron."

Harry's face fell.

"What should I do?" he asked desperately.

Draco thought for a moment.

"I think that you should tell Ron everything." Harry turned a little green. "If he's truly your friend, then nothing should change."

Harry didn't speak.

"For Ginny—well you have to decide on your own whether you still love her, and if you don't, then is it still worth being with her?"

Harry swallowed.

He looked at Draco intently and didn't look away.

Draco tried to break the contact, but couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I don't want to have to do any of those things," he said.

Draco tried to ignore his quickened heart beat and smiled gently.

"It'll be worth it," he promised.

Harry stood up to leave shortly after but before he did he threw Draco half a smile.

"Thanks," he murmured and threw down the floo powder.

***

Harry lay in bed, the events of the night replaying continuously in his head, and then when he slept, replaying in his dreams.

When he opened his eyes, a hand was stroking his hair. He saw the familiar flaming red and for a moment he thought it was Ron and then Ginny's face came a little more into focus.

He reached for his glasses, pushing them onto his face and rolling back over to face his girlfriend.

"I haven't seen you all week," she said, "so I wanted to come surprise you."

There was something in the tone of her voice that made Harry frown. She was explaining herself. Why would she think she needed to explain herself unless she thought Harry wouldn't be pleased with the surprise?

What made him frown even more was the fact that he wasn't pleased. Not at all.

He attempted to smile but couldn't. When had this happened? How long had it been since he and Ginny had been simply going through the motions?

"I think you should leave," he whispered.

She shook her head.

"No, I missed you."

She reached down, her soft hand slipping under his waist band. Her lips touched his chin first, and then brushed his lips.

It felt nice. It _always_ felt nice when she touched him, but he just didn't want her to.

He gripped her hand as it wrapped around him, massaging him, and pulled it out from his pajamas.

She pulled back to look at him, her eyes already glassy with tears and Harry finally realized that she had known this was coming. She was trying to stop it.

"We can't keep this up, can we?" he asked.

She shook her head fervently.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Harry sighed and pushed himself into a sitting position.

"We can't keep seeing each other," he said. Tears began to stream down her cheeks at once.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "We just have to work on it."

Harry bit his lip. He was sorely tempted to believe her, but he knew that it wasn't true.

"We've been working on it for years," he said. "It's not fair for either of us, Ginny."

She gripped Harry's hand tightly in her own, shaking her head.

"You're wrong."

Harry shook his head.

"Malfoy's right," he admitted. "I need to sort everything out before I can be with anyone. Especially you."

Her eyes widened dramatically.

"You're doing this because of Malfoy?" she demanded shrilly. "Harry what's happened to you?"

"I'm doing this because it's better for both of us."

She took a gasping breath and stood up.

"You're not in your right mind," she said. "I know that better than anyone."

"Ginny—."

"No," she said. "We'll talk later."

She stood up and practically ran from his bedroom. Harry went after her, grabbing her arm to stop her before she stepped into the fireplace.

"We can talk later, if you want," he said frustrated. "But I'm not taking it back, and I'm not changing my mind."

He didn't love her, not the way that he should anyway and he highly doubted that a few more years of going through the motions would change anything at all.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and watched her go.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

AN: here it finally is! :P Oh, also for all those wondering at this point, this is a harry/Draco, not a Ron/harry. ;)

Harry took his time strolling toward Malfoy's office. Judging by the creaking in his limbs and sting in his lungs from all the fresh air, it had been far too long since he'd gone anywhere without apparating.

It was nice. The infrequent sun was blessing his skin with a little light and altogether it felt good to be out and doing _something_, even if that something was only walking. In fact he was feeling surprisingly good considering the circumstances.

Harry grit his teeth, mentally kicking himself back into gear. He was not just out here to enjoy the day. He had ulterior motives.

A young man walked past and Harry shot him a glance as casually as he could.

He shuddered a little. The boy's face was hard to look past, not to mention the fact that he was a man. There was no looking beyond that either.

He shot a few more casual glances at the men on the street before giving up. He felt dirty for even trying this.

Whatever the hell was going on with his reactions to Ron, Harry doubted that it had anything to do with him being gay. He just happened to love him.

The thought took the spring out of Harry's step. Nice weather and fresh air was not enough to cover up the fact that Harry loved his best friend in more than a friendly way, and Ron had not bothered to talk to him in days.

Not that Harry had tried either, but that was beside the point.

The images replayed in Harry's mind of that night, how soft Ron's lips had been and before he knew it he was standing still before Malfoy's office building.

His stomach squirmed restlessly.

When he had decided to 'share' with Malfoy, he hadn't thought that would include bounding through the blonde's flew in the middle of the night for a chat. He frowned, remembering suddenly how disheveled and unprepared Malfoy had looked when he'd first found him. Harry had never seen him like that.

He had still been dressed in a nice suit but the whole thing was rumpled and creased. Clearly he had not been expecting anyone to disturb him. Especially with a confused sexuality that they were sure was akin to the end of the world.

His cheeks were hot by the time he made it into the waiting area.

"You can go right in," his receptionist said.

Harry nodded and bracing himself he pushed open the door.

Malfoy was sitting at his desk peacefully, sorting through some papers, a glow of sunlight hitting the wall and bouncing brightly throughout the room.

He glanced up at Harry at once and smiled.

"Harry," he said. "Come have a seat."

Why in god's name did he look so open and friendly when he smiled in this light? Unnerved, Harry shut the door behind him and took the seat across from Malfoy's table.

"Just give me a moment," he said.

Harry nodded.

He glanced around to the window, wondering if it would be rude to go and shut the curtains.

It was weird enough having Draco Malfoy being so sweet to him but add to that the soft glowing sunlight and it was like Harry was in some alternate universe where the bad were good and the good needed mental evaluations.

Just as Harry was about to take his chances and shut the damn curtains Malfoy pushed the neatly stacked papers aside and looked up at Harry.

Had his eyes always been such a pale grey? Harry was pretty certain that he'd never even known the colour until just now.

"So how has your week been?" Malfoy asked.

Harry fought to bring his mind back down to normal and much darker matters.

"Uh, alright."

Malfoy raised a brow.

"Really?" he asked.

Harry flushed, a vision of himself tumbling into the blonde's fireplace shooting to the forefront of his mind.

He scowled.

"Well if you already know then why are you asking?" he snapped.

It was a defensive technique but it made Malfoy frown a little anyway.

Harry tugged at the loose strings in his shirt guiltily. He bit his lip, thinking through the events of the week like he should have done in the first place.

"I—well the stuff with Ron happened," he finally said. "Which you know about. Then the next day I broke it off with Ginny."

Malfoy's eyes widened.

"Really?" he asked. "How did that go?"

Harry frowned, remembering it.

"She cried," he said, "and told me I wasn't thinking straight and that we would discuss it later."

Harry fell silent. It would be weird to not have Ginny around but it was better for her this way. It was better for the both of them.

"Any regrets about it?"

Harry looked up at Malfoy and shook his head.

"No," he said firmly. "I told her it was over, and we have nothing left to discuss now."

Malfoy nodded thoughtfully.

"That's good to hear," he said. How did he manage to seem genuinely pleased? Harry knew that he could give a rat's arse about Harry's love life, but somehow he seemed like he really cared. Like he was a friend, glad to see Harry headed down the right track.

Despite himself he smiled up at the blond.

Malfoy's smile faltered slightly and he cleared his throat.

"What about Ron?" he asked suddenly.

Harry's smile vanished.

"I haven't heard from him." He bit his lip. "Or Hermione."

Harry glanced up from his frayed shirt end and found Malfoy addressing him with his large pale eyes. Surprisingly it was hard to remember what he had spent the rest of the week doing while he looked at them. A cloud passed over the sun; everything dimmed and seemed to come back to normal.

"I spent the rest of the week lying around my house," he said bashfully. Moments of strong self preservation keeping him from jumping through the fire to Ron and Hermione's place at once and other moments of self loathing keeping him in bed for hours and wishing that someone would come to see if he was alright.

"The whole week?" Malfoy asked.

Harry blushed but nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "I guess… I was hoping someone would come check on me."

He laughed awkwardly but fell silent when Malfoy only watched him.

"Did anyone come?" he asked.

Harry simply shook his head.

After a moment's silence he shrugged awkwardly.

"It's not a big deal though."

Malfoy leaned forward intently, fixing his gaze on Harry and his heart beat quickened inexplicably.

What was going on?

"You're really okay with that?" he asked.

Harry nodded mutely.

Malfoy smiled.

"Good," he said. "You're taking this remarkably well." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Just remember to have that little talk with your friends before next week."

Harry couldn't help but smile. "It would be hard to forget."

Suddenly the fire flared to life and with its green floo light Malfoy's face fell.

A tall and stately blond stepped through, dressed as though she was on her way to an event. She gave Harry one cold, surprised look and fixed her eyes on her son.

"What's going on here?" she demanded.

"Hello mother," Draco said coldly, without looking up.

"Well?" she asked.

She crossed her arms and Harry shrank uncomfortably into his seat.

Malfoy seemed to take a long calming breath which clearly didn't work.

"Can't you see I'm working?" he snapped.

"This doesn't look like work," she commented snidely. All surprise was gone from her voice, but this tone was much worse.

Suddenly Malfoy was on his feet. He walked up to his mother and after spinning her around, practically shooed her toward the fire.

She giggled as he pushed her forward but as they reached the hearth spun around to face her son, her wand poised under his chin.

"This is the last straw," she whispered to him. "You cancelled our last meeting, you wont answer any of my requests. Tonight you're going to have dinner with me, and that's final, or you'll find yourself out of your _job _and this time I'm not just saying that."

With that, she pecked him on the cheek and walked collectedly into the fire place.

Harry stared, his mouth hanging open. He couldn't see Malfoy's face from here which was just as well, because the blond would most likely try to curse him if he saw Harry's expression. Sure he was his doctor now, but old habits die hard.

Malfoy took another one of those long calming breaths and turned back to Harry. His face was composed but he walked silently, his fists clenched.

Stiffly, he seated himself across from Harry again and looked at him.

Belatedly Harry shut his mouth.

"I'm so sorry," Draco said.

The sincerity of it made Harry shift in his seat. Malfoy looked toward the window and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before sighing.

"The fire's not supposed to be connected to anyone but my patients, and its supposed to be strictly monitored, even then, but—well, she has connections."

He looked at Harry apologetically and Harry realized he was expected to say something.

"Uh, It's okay," he said.

"Not really," Malfoy answered at once. "It's not very professional for my mother of all people to barge in on meetings."

Harry laughed awkwardly.

"So you're avoiding her?" he asked. "Not that I blame you but, why?"

Malfoy gave him a level look before answering.

"I'm basically a Muggle therapist," he answered after a moment. "I barely even use magic anymore according to her."

He shrugged.

"She's unimpressed."

Harry took a sip of his water, attempting to hide his surprise. Draco Malfoy barely using magic? In fact, the fact that he was doing this job at all probably spoke wonders of the amount of changing that he'd done since they had been in school. He had known that of course, but somehow seeing proof made Harry uncomfortable.

"Well, we're almost done here anyway," Harry said.

Malfoy glanced at the clock.

"Not quite," he said. "We still have twenty minutes and—well we rarely get through a whole meeting so how about we actually finish this one?"

Harry smiled easily. Somehow the old tension had been breached in the last week. Malfoy was incredibly hard not to like when he was being so open.

"Alright, what do you want to talk about?" he asked.

Clearing his throat Malfoy looked down at his notes for a moment, clearly trying to get his mind back on track.

"Have you tried to take a notice of the men around you?" he finally asked.

Harry grimaced. He'd forgotten about that part of things. He really should have insisted on calling the session quits while he had the chance.

"Sort of," he answered.

"What does that mean?"

"It means…" Harry shut his eyes thinking about his brief walk. He sighed. "Checking out other men grosses me out."

When he opened his eyes again it looked rather like Malfoy was trying to hold back a laugh.

"Its true!" he insisted. "I only looked at a few people but it made me feel dirty every time."

Malfoy took a long, slow breath before he could speak without smiling.

Harry scowled at him while he did. If he thought this was funny then—

"What do you think is different about Ron then?" he asked.

Harry's scowl deepened.

"If you think I'm going to answer that seriously while you're about to laught then—."

"No," Malfoy interrupted, all mirth gone. "I'm not about to laugh. Go on."

Wearily, Harry shrugged.

"I don't know he's my friend."

"I know you don't fall for all your friends," Malfoy said.

Harry nodded. That's true.

It was an interesting question. Why Ron of all people. He wasn't any better looking than a lot of his friends. He wasn't better than any of them in any particular way but—

"He makes me laugh," he finally said. "I guess that would be part of it."

Malfoy didn't look very convinced. That was because he didn't understand. Ron didn't just make him laugh with random jokes. He timed them. He waited for just the right moment and then would say just the right thing to put everything into perspective and to make Harry smile. And he did it on purpose.

"He makes my life easier, I guess."

"You're being awfully vague," Malfoy informed him.

Frustrated, Harry tried to put his thoughts into words.

"He—he knows me so well that he can—I dunno—read me and, well he always says the right thing, no matter what it is and it makes me laugh and feel like none of my problems really matter anymore. Like they're suddenly not as important."

Malfoy was watching him closely, his large eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

After a long pause he let out a breath of air.

"That makes sense actually," he said.

Harry frowned.

"It does?" he asked.

Malfoy nodded, straightening in his seat.

"Yes," he said. His eyes looked past Harry in thought as though he was seeing the answer to an incredible riddle being layed out before him.

"He's like your grief counselor, or personal life coach."

Harry blanked.

"What?" he asked.

"Every time you need help dealing with stress he's there to help you, to take some of the load off of your shoulders. Only he doesn't do it for a fee, he does it because he cares about you."

A grin broke out over Malfoy's face.

"It would be impossible not to fall for that over so many years."

Harry's brain rushed to process this revelation. It made sense. It made a lot of sense actually but it didn't really change anything except…

"So, does that mean that I'm not gay?" he asked.

"Well, that's for you to decide but," Malfoy shook his head. "I don't think you are."

A staggering weight lifted from Harry's shoulders that he hadn't known had been there.

"Really?" he asked. He could hear the joy in his voice and was too happy to be embarrassed about it. Being gay was drama that he couldn't really afford to have in his life. Being in love with his friend when he had a legitimate reason to be was something he could deal with.

His heart skipped incredulously until he finally got up to leave. Malfoy followed him out of the room to speak to his receptionist.

He patted Harry warmly on the back as he passed him and leaned over the girl's desk to talk. Harry paused by the door, suddenly and inexplicably wanting to linger at least long enough to thank him. The sight left him staring like a school boy again at a loss for words as he often had been back then.

Malfoy had his hands braced on the desk, leaning over it, toward the girl.

The girl was blushing, her whole face pink from Malfoy's close proximity and hushed words, although she answered him easily enough. His large, gentle hands gripped the desk strongly and flexed his defined forearms just enough to show the muscled there where his shirt had been rolled up. Although loose around the rest of his arms the fabric was tightened across his shoulders from his position, tapering loosely down to his hips revealing an incredible svelte frame that led to his ass. Harry tried to stop staring, but the effort went unnoticed by his eyes which were glued to his doctor's incredible body.

Perhaps feeling his stare Malfoy glanced toward the door, stopping mid sentence when he realized that Harry was still there.

"Harry," he said surprised. He straightened at once. "Is there something you need?"

Harry shook his head mutely.

_No, I'm just checking you out. _The silent answer prompted him into motion and he fled at once.

He took the stairs, practically running down the set of them until he reached the bottom. There, he shoved his forehead against the cold cement of the wall and squeezed his eyes shut feeling an on-coming headache.

Sure Malfoy had told him to start checking out men, but Harry knew for a fact that he hadn't been implying that Harry should try to look at _him_ that way. And that had been the opposite of _trying _to check him out. That had been Harry trying to look away! He hadn't been able to take his eyes off of the blonde's incredible, fit, _masculine _body.

And it had sort of turned him on.

So much for being straight. Harry groaned.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: I know, I always make you guys wait forever, but at least I do update, right? ….right? ….here, have cookies with this chapter^^; btw, thanks for everyone who reviewed, it really keeps me going! Love you guys!

Chapter Seven

Draco uncorked the bottle the second the floo turned green. He took a swig of the wine before pouring it into a glass and then another from the bottle just for extra measure.

Normally he didn't drink to get drunk but if he had to think for one more moment he was pretty sure he would jump right out of the tenth story window and not really care until he was hitting the ground.

"I'm a grown man, how can you give me ultimatums?" He kicked at the empty fireplace and downed the glass.

He had been a good boy. Not only had he put up with his mother's ridiculous dinner invitation, he had even listened to her absurd speculations on his life without so much as raising his voice but today…

He poured another glass and brought it to his lips trying to erase from his memory the way she'd marched into his apartment, and imposed her views on all of the semi-stable things in his life. His home, his job, his lifestyle, nothing was to her satisfaction and she didn't plan to let him continue living this way it would seem.

Draco swallowed and looked at the clock. It was still early but he had to get out of here. He wanted his mind off of things whether it be with drinking, dancing, a muggle boy, hell he didn't even care if it was that bloke from the prophet that Draco had gone out with.

He stumbled into a joint about a half hour later. He couldn't remember the name but the music was okay. It had a beat which was all that mattered.

Draco ordered a drink and drank it on the dance floor, swaying his hips to the beat. The lights began to daze him and he shut his eyes as a moment later someone's hands rested on him from the back, urging him against a hard body.

He sighed and leaned against it. If he didn't look he could pretend it was anyone. He could pretend it was Harry.

If he had been sober he probably would have reprimanded himself for that, but not now, not when he was being honest with himself.

He liked Harry. Liked that way that he gestured when he spoke and avoided eye contact when something made him uncomfortable, the way he bit those damn lips.

He smiled a little thinking about it and found himself biting his own lips, wondering if that was how it felt for Harry.

The man behind him gripped his hips hard, pulling Draco's ass tight against him. He could feel the hot breaths in his ear and moaned softly despite himself.

Harry was probably at home right now, moping about something. About Ron most likely. Draco tried not to let that annoy him. He turned his face to the man against him and his lips met Draco's eagerly. When they pulled apart Draco belatedly realized that he had been trying to avoid looking at the guy. He was far too different. His hair was too light, his eyes too dark, his muscular build should have been a giveaway against Draco's back but really it was the face that bothered him.

For a moment Draco had genuinely been expecting to see Harry's face.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Draco didn't know how to answer that.

Harry waited anxiously, half hiding behind a lamp post, waiting to see if Ron would respond to the equivalent of a schoolyard note that Harry had sent him.

After about twenty minutes leaning against the cold steel Harry figured he probably should have written a little more than 'Ron, meet me out front. Don't tell Hermione.'

His stomach twisted as he accepted the fact that Ron didn't want anything to do with him anymore. He thought back to fourth year, their only other big fight. Making up with his friend had made all of the other horrors he had yet to face seem easy to conquer… and Hermione…. Harry really didn't know how to live without the two of them.

He turned and apparated away from their home, the thought ringing in his ears. He would try again tomorrow. If he apologized then they would have to forgive him.

It was sort of funny. Harry had always known that he was a bit of a recluse. He liked his privacy and he never had many friends. He had a routine and a set of people allowed into that routine and now that he had lost three of those people it was glaringly obvious how sheltered he kept himself.

It was a Thursday night. Going out crossed his mind but he didn't want to go anywhere alone. He never had before, not even to pick up because, well, he'd been with Ginny since before school ended. Also, right now he wasn't sure who he would end up coming home with and that confused the hell out of him.

An image of Malfoy leaned over the office desk shot into Harry's mind and his pants suddenly felt a little tight.

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. Wanking to the thought of a guy. He didn't think he was at that stage yet.

He sank into the couch but didn't turn the TV on.

Somehow he felt like a liar. He had told Malfoy that he was straight and then minutes later decided quite firmly that he wasn't.

In fact he was so not straight that thinking of Malfoy was giving him a hard on. He dropped a hand over his crotch but didn't do anything. It would be wrong to jerk off and think about his doctor… although Malfoy had told him to try to figure it out.

'Look at men and see if you're attracted to them,' that was pretty much an invitation actually.

Harry undid the top button of his jeans and slid his hand into them. He shut his eyes, enjoying the pressure. He bet it would feel good with a guy. Blow jobs and hand jobs would at least still feel the same. And sex. Being on top would feel good. He knew it would. He imagined squeezing into a tight ass and squeezed himself with a shudder.

Why hadn't he thought about it before?

He unzipped his pants for more room and a loud rushing sound filled his ears.

The Floo.

Harry jolted upright and spun in his seat to look at the fire place behind him as the green smoke dissipated. His mouth went dry when Draco Malfoy climbed unsteadily out of it.

He was seeing things. Or dreaming. Yes. Dreaming made sense because why would Draco Malfoy be in his living room while Harry still had a hand wrapped around his cock.

Malfoy stumbled a little and then looked up, his eyes landing on Harry and brightening.

"Harry!"

He grinned and all the blood rushed from Harry's face. He yanked his hand free doing up his pants frantically as Malfoy stumbled around to the side of the couch. He seemed to slip over the arm and half fell against Harry's shoulder, giggling madly as he tried to right himself.

That was about when Harry realized what was going on. His eye brows shot up under his fringe as he helped Malfoy into a sitting position.

"Been drinking have you?" he asked.

The sheen to Malfoy's eyes was answer enough but he tried to reply anyway.

"I went out for a couple drinks," he slurred happily.

His arm suddenly dropped around Harry's shoulders and he leaned in close making Harry's whole body stiffen. If only Malfoy could know what Harry had been about to do only moments before.

He was still a little hard now and shifted awkwardly as Malfoy brought his lips close to Harry's ear.

"To get my mind off things," he whispered conspiratorially, although why, Harry had no clue.

"Is that so?"

He laughed awkwardly and abruptly choked on the noise as Malfoy began to stroke his hair.

Harry sat frozen until suddenly Malfoy whispered, his breath tickling Harry's ear.

"I like your hair," he said and suddenly Harry was on his feet his heart thundering against his ribs.

"Why are you here?" he demanded. Maybe a bit harsh but his nerves were too frazzled to tone it down. His heart was beating so hard that he almost couldn't hear Malfoy's next words over the sound.

"Well…" He thought for a moment, his face turned up toward Harry innocently. "I was going to go home with this guy but then I kept thinking of you so I came here instead."

He slumped over laying flat across the couch with a sigh his eyes drifting instantly shut while Harry gaped at him.

"Wait, you what?"

He had been about to go home with some guy and then—

"Malfoy?" When the blond didn't move Harry reached out a hand, alarmed, and shook him by the shoulder.

"Malfoy?"

"Draco," he mumbled.

"What?"

"No one calls me Malfoy anymore," he muttered without opening his eyes.

Harry sighed.

"Okay well, Draco…" That felt so weird when not immediately followed with 'Malfoy'. He cleared his throat. "Draco, you need to go home and take that anti-drunk stuff you make."

He grimaced and finally opened his eyes.

"No," he said shortly.

Harry raised a brow.

"Why not?" he demanded. "You're pissed!"

Malfoy frowned up at him persistently.

"That's the point," he said as though it were obvious.

Harry stared. "Oh, so you're allowed to get pissed alone but I'm not allowed to drink at all even with friends, is that how it works?"

"Yes," Malfoy answered at once. "Because you have problems…"

His eyes drifted shut so he missed the glare that Harry was instantly shooting him.

"Like you should talk," he muttered, then sighed.

He could let that remark go seeing as how wasted his doctor was but the rest of it….

He dropped down onto the couch next to Malfoy. Leaning over him to help him up but stilling as his hand dropped onto his shoulder, staring at his face.

With his eyes closed he looked so much younger. His hair was fanned out in disarray around him in a way Harry realized quite forcefully that Malfoy looked good in. He should mess himself up more often.

Harry felt his cheeks redden as he eyed the blond. He didn't know if he'd ever gotten this close before. His skin looked so soft. And warm. He knew it would be warm because he could feel the heat radiating off of Malfoy like a furnace.

Suddenly Malfoy's eyes fluttered open and he looked up hazily at Harry, prompting him back into motion.

He slid his arm down Malfoy's back, the other looping around his chest and pulled him up into a sitting position.

"Up you go," he muttered, but the motion seemed to be too much for the blond because he didn't stop at the upright sitting position but kept coming until he was sprawled rather ludicrously in Harry's arms.

Suddenly all of Harry's previous problems about being possibly attracted to Malfoy were very hard to recall.

His heart was pounding again and the way Malfoy's ear was pressed against his chest Harry knew he could hear it.

"Did you really almost go home with a guy?" he asked uneasily.

He nodded against Harry's chest seeming to get comfortable there before lifting his head marginally so that their eyes could meet.

"I wanted to," he started. "But then…" he frowned as though trying to understand a mystery of life, "the second he started touching me all I could think about was you."

Harry's hands began to shake so hard he couldn't move them from their spot, still clasped around Malfoy. There were about a zillion things to say to that but of course Harry chose the most insignificant one.

"So, you're gay then?"

Malfoy frowned, the insecurity in his eyes making Harry regret it at once.

"Does that bother you?" he asked.

"No," he said at once. "It doesn't bother me, not at all. In fact…"

How should he say this? How should he tell Malfoy that being gay didn't bother him. That having Malfoy in his arms was sort of frighteningly sexy. The way his body fit against Harry's, the feel of his strong body—hard but soft at the same time—like Harry could be rough with him and not have to worry about the consequences.

Malfoy could feel Harry's arousal Harry knew because he was moving now, pulling his but to sit closer to Harry and therefore higher so that their chests matched up, their faces at the same level.

His warm hands travelled up Harry's side finally settling on his jaw and Harry abruptly forgot how to breathe.

"Too bad you're straight," he said and then with a sudden moan he ducked over the side of the couch, puking his guts onto the floor—and yes—Harry's feet too.

AN: yes I know, that's a mean place to end but…. Hehehehehe. For their first out of office encounter I wanted it to be particularly awful. :P

As usual, please R&R! 3

Oh! Btw, would it be okay to plug my original fiction? http:/www(.)fictionpress(.)com/~rukaya the new stories are; The First Hill and Public Displays of Affection. :D


	8. Chapter 8

AN: I've finally updated! Omg! O.O honestly even I'm shocked. But if it makes anyone feel better, I have no intentions of abandoning this story, and never did. I'm going to write it to the end even though I keep getting distracted with real work Please enjoy this chapter and review as always, it really motivates me sad but true…

Chapter Eight

Draco woke up with his face pressed into a cushion and the taste of bile in his mouth. That combined with the splitting headache made it pretty obvious how his night had gone.

He pushed himself up.

"Oh god."

With a groan he bent over, taking deep breaths with his head between his knees until the nausea finally began to subside.

Apparently his night had gone a little too well.

"Here, drink this, it'll help."

Draco jerked and looked up at the voice. The sight of Harry standing over him with a clear glass of some orangey liquid and a calm smile on his face should have sent a larger thrill of panic through him. Instead, he took the glass and sipped it for a minute of confusion before realizing just how odd this was.

The nausea passed and the pounding headache receded and finally he looked up at Harry.

Harry smiled pleasantly. That in itself made his hackles rise. Harry never openly smiled at him. Maybe once, ever. When Draco was in trouble.

"Where am I?" he asked suddenly.

His voice came out hoarse and if not for an overpowering sense of pride he would have hacked all over Harry. Instead he cleared his throat and waited.

"Well," Harry took a quick breath and carried on painfully calmly. "You're at my place."

Draco was up instantly, the subdued panic suddenly taking him over. Harry reached out a hand to steady him—like he was the care-taker and the nausea came back.

"I came to your home?" he demanded.

He looked around wildly but the motion made his head spin.

Harry gripped his shoulders.

"Why don't you come sit over here?"

He led Draco to the kitchen table and sat him down.

Maybe it was just the hangover, the headache and stomach ache, but the stifling sense of dread wouldn't leave him. He didn't think he could breath and his hands were shaking. For a while he watched Harry bustle around the kitchen making toast and it wasn't until then that he realized that Harry was avoiding looking at him.

Why? What had he done?

He remembered the bar… he knew he had been thinking about Harry more and more lately. How were the two connected?

"What happened?"

Harry paused in buttering the bread.

"You don't remember?"

He glanced back at Draco who shook his head. With a sigh, he finished the toast and came to sit next to Draco, sliding the plate over to him.

Draco didn't touch it.

"Harry."

He fixed his green eyes on Draco and swallowed.

"Er, you came in through my floo in the middle of the night—you really don't remember it?"

Draco shook his head.

"You didn't call me or something?"

Harry bit his lips.

"You can't think of any other reason you'd want to pay me a visit in the middle of the night? While drunk, I might add."

His cheeks turned an alarming shade of red and Draco couldn't shake the feeling that he was sinking.

"What did I do?" he asked, slowly.

Maybe he saw the look in Draco's eyes because Harry just shrugged like this was nothing.

"Aside from puking on me, nothing."

Draco grimaced. That would explain the taste in his mouth.

"That's it?" he asked.

It wasn't ideal. It definitely wasn't professional. But if that was it….

Harry watched Draco Malfoy closely. He had been doing that for about half the night and all morning already. First with the excuse that Malfoy needed someone caring for him, and then—when he realized he didn't have to make excuses for himself—just because he wanted to.

The blond looked ridiculously cute with his hair unkempt and sticking up from sleep. Harry's just grew that way, but to see Malfoy start the night looking as he usually did and then toss and turn his hair into literal knots… it was all Harry could do to sit and stare.

He was doing that now, watching the relief seep into his doctor, his former rival and enemy. It was beyond weird to be sitting here thinking that he didn't hate Draco Malfoy anymore, that in fact he rather liked him. The shift had been so sudden, and sneaky that Harry wasn't sure when it had happened. Maybe it had been happening slowly from the start. From the first time he'd stepped into that office and seen Malfoy sitting there, maybe when he'd chased him down that stairwell.

All Harry knew for sure was that Malfoy's soft sigh of relief filled him with anxiety. That he was glad nothing had changed. Harry stared at the knot in the back of Malfoy's head. Everything had changed.

"You were in a club, dancing with someone. You said you wanted to go home with him, but you really wanted me… so you came over."

If he wanted a reaction, he got one.

"I did no such thing."

Harry's jaw dropped at the sudden sternness.

"That's what you told me," he insisted.

Malfoy took a shuddering breath and suddenly his eyes were turning red, panic in his eyes.

"No, Harry, tell me I didn't. Are you serious?"

Suddenly, he was on his feet.

"I have to go."

Harry stood up.

"Did I do anything else?" Malfoy suddenly demanded, spinning back around to face him.

"Uh, no. You just sat with me and… and then puked."

Malfoy turned on his heel, practically running for the fireplace. Harry went after him, pulling his arm to stop him and sending them stumbling into the wall when Draco didn't slow down.

They both stilled, and Draco looked up at Harry. Pinned to the cold mantle with his eyes watering and his heart hammering into Harry's chest, he looked ridiculously vulnerable.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Harry blanched.

"Why are you apologizing?"

Malfoy swallowed.

"I came into your house, puked on you and made an ass of myself and completely abused our floo connection."

Harry shook his head.

"No, all you did was sit with me, really."

The near tears were alarming. Harry hoped desperately that they wouldn't fall from Malfoy's large grey eyes because he was overtaken by the powerful urge to kiss him right now and he didn't know how many first kisses he could handle while the other person was crying.

He leaned forward and Malfoy turned his face away at once, shoving Harry off of him.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

Harry shrugged awkwardly.

"I thought you, I don't know, had a thing for me, maybe?"

Malfoy's mouth opened and closed and then he shut his eyes.

"Potter—"

"I thought we were on a first name basis."

"You've never once called me Draco."

"Draco." The easy use of his first name seemed to freeze him to the spot and Harry took the opportunity to come up to him and place both hands on the blonde's shoulders. "I'm okay with it. Really."

Draco shook his head, his eyes closing.

"It's really hard," he said suddenly. Harry opened his mouth to ask what, but Draco opened his eyes again and the tears were back and it dried Harry's voice up in his throat. "For me. To do this kind of work and I've worked really hard for it."

He pulled Harry's hands off of him, but didn't let go for a moment, before dropping them and walking to Harry's fire place.

Harry wanted to stop him but didn't know how or what to say. The green fire of the floo ate him up and he stood staring at the empty fireplace for far too long.


End file.
